Dragon Scars
by QueenStrata
Summary: Finding their soulmates is just the beginning of their journey. But with the secrets they're keeping, they're not sure they want to know where it ends. (Alternate universe! A series of short stories, making one coherent-ish plot/timeline. More notes inside.)
1. Shifting

A/N: Well, I'm finally actually writing the main story, so I figured it couldn't hurt to start posting this thing here. It's mostly a series of (relatively) short stories, and I'll be posting them on this site in roughly chronological order. This opening bit is a non-shippy bout of worldbuilding and fluff with the Hugheses.

 **This is an absolute trainwreck of genres and tropes** SO: alternate universe scifi/fantasy dark-ish space opera with magic, shapeshifters, inter-species relationships (between humanoid aliens), soulmates, **yaoi** , and just generally me being a self-indulgent mess. It'll be a great time, I promise!

Warnings: For this chapter, nothing. There will be violence, torture, and angst in the future though.

* * *

 _Shifting_

They're just entering atmo when they get the unexpected call from Maes, and Roy freezes for a second as he stares at the blinking light on the console letting him know a request is coming in. Hawkeye is the one who accepts it, calmly hitting the button on the arm of the command chair—a complete lack of protocol that would irritate Roy if anyone else had done it. But Hawkeye gets away with things that nobody else could ever hope to, because their lives have been inextricably twined for years, ever since they'd been children and had discovered the bonds that would one day make them part of a single extended pack. (One day, but not yet. They treated each other as siblings already anyway, and it had driven their superiors crazy.)

By the time the fritzing holoscreen has managed to flicker on, Roy has already pulled himself together and is the very picture of serenity. This is ruined by the state his best friend is in: Maes is leaning against the doorjamb of what looks like his daughter's bedroom, glasses askew, hair and clothes hopelessly disheveled, wild-eyed and grinning like the first day he'd met Gracia all over again. Roy blinks slowly, leaning forward in his chair a little. Behind him, Hawkeye makes a little noise of distressed amusement.

"Hughes," Roy says with a bemused calm he doesn't quite feel, "are you aware that your house is on fire?"

"Yes, isn't it just _wonderful_?" Maes gushes, beaming. Havoc has now started snickering, and is attempting to poke Breda awake so he can share in the entertainment. "It just happened this morning, we went to wake her up for breakfast and there she was! She's so adorable, you've never seen _anything_ so cute, Roy, you're just going to adore her! Ahhhh, they grow up so fast, I can't believe it's happened already!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not quite following the conversation," Falman speaks up with some reluctance. Several years out of hell, and he still isn't comfortable with life as a civilian and treating his former superiors as friends.

"My precious, perfect, adorable little princess," Hughes starts. Roy clears his throat before he can continue an endless diatribe about how much he loves his daughter. "Ah, that is, Elicia shifted into her dragon form for the first time this morning! And she's absolutely stunning, she's a beautiful pale rose-gold, and you know that means she'll lighten into Gracia's white when she's older. I'm so happy I could _sing_."

"Spare us," Roy advises dryly.

"Maes, why did you call us to tell us?" Hawkeye asks, ever practical. "You knew we were on our way in already. We're all of course thrilled for this momentous occasion in your life, but the announcement could easily have waited until we arrived."

Maes wilts a little, and the happiness in his demeanor makes way for a small amount of embarrassment. He coughs nervously into his arm, making the picture jump sporadically. "I was wondering how far out you were," he says.

"We're about to dock," Roy replies, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "What's gone wrong?"

Maes hesitates, embarrassment growing until he even starts to blush a little. "Ah, I'm sure it's nothing, she's probably just being stubborn. But she can't seem to turn back, and I was hoping maybe seeing you would help."

Roy puts his face in his hand to hide a helpless smile, even though he knows he isn't fooling anyone.

"We'll be there shortly, Maes," he says, and manages to hold in the bubble of laughter until his best friend's image has disappeared.

It takes them a few hours to troop out to Maes's house. The tiny three-bedroom abode is hidden in plain view in a suburb on a heavily-populated planet, which is great for everything except being in a hurry. The traffic is unparalleled on any other planet Roy has ever been to, but flying is absolutely out of the question. There are no civilian Dragons since Bradley managed to take their planet down.

Eventually, _finally_ , they get to Maes's street, and Roy is practically vibrating with excitement by the time they get there. New cubs have always been something of a big deal among their people, and Elicia is the only child Roy has known. To be witness to a milestone like her First Shifting, to sit in on the celebrations for a pack that technically isn't his, is an honor, and his instincts are thrumming with excitement. He can't quite understand how Hawkeye is calm enough to be driving, but then Hawkeye has always been something of a rarity in self-control among Dragons.

It's actually painful for him to keep a dignified pace as he walks up to the door of his friend's house, but it won't do any of them any good if it looks like this is anything other than a casual visit. He still shifts impatiently after knocking, and is considering just bursting into the house himself when the door finally opens.

Hughes looks even worse than he had before, dark purple scales creeping up the side of his face and his green eyes taking on a more reptilian shape. Alarmed, Roy ushers him back inside with a hand on his elbow. Hawkeye hovers at his back supportively.

"The rest of you go wait in the living room," Roy snaps, an order that most of them will obey instinctively. Falman is the only one who jumps even a little, but he rarely questions commands. It isn't until the four men are in the living room that Roy hears Havoc ask what's going on, but by then he's already got his attention focused on Maes again.

"Are you okay?" he asks urgently, then realizes how ridiculous the question is. "Are Elicia and Gracia okay?" he corrects.

"I think so," Maes says, leading the way down the hallway. "We're having trouble keeping up with the fires, and we just don't know how to tell if Elicia won't turn back, or if she _can't_. And she can't talk to tell us. Is that normal? I think it's normal the first time, but I don't remember for certain, and I'm worried, Roy, what if something is wrong? I could lose her, and it would just kill Gracia, and—"

Roy stops Maes forcefully, turns him around and holds him in place until he looks Roy in the eyes. Maes isn't really meant to be a pack leader, not naturally an alpha and too fond of taking on his confrontations from behind the scenes, but in these strange times and with only his small family to take care of, he's all the three of them have. Especially with Roy constantly on the wing.

"I'm sure Elicia's just being stubborn because she's enjoying being a dragon so much," Roy says with complete certainty. "She does seem to take after her father a great deal after all, and I seem to recall somebody buying a second safe house in the woods after complaining at length about never being able to stretch his wings."

"It's a perfectly sound investment!" Maes protests reflexively. "We need something to fall back on if this one is discovered!"

"And she'll learn to talk as a dragon eventually," Roy adds. "I do happen to remember, since I was required to know these things despite myself."

He smiles wryly, and the scales on Maes's face start to fade as he gives Roy a sympathetic look. Before he can say anything, Roy claps him once on the shoulder in a friendly way, and tells Maes and Hawkeye both to stay in the hallway while he tries to coax Elicia back into human form.

"Hello, Roy," Gracia greets him warmly when he steps into the bedroom. She looks happy but exhausted, sitting cross-legged in a corner of the room and flipping absently through a children's book. Part of her long skirt has been burnt away to reveal one leg up to her knee, but she seems unconcerned about it as she looks up at him. "I take it Maes has told you the good news?"

"At length, multiple times," Roy assures her, but with fondness. They share a slightly exasperated smile, and then Gracia sighs and nods at the bed. It's much larger than a child should need—in fact, the whole bedroom is—but that's not taking into account the fact that the child in question might sometimes like to take on a much larger form. The dragon cub, curled up with its nose in its tail for a nap, takes up fully half of the bed.

"She's tired herself out with all the rampaging and the fire," Gracia explains. "We'd hoped she'd turn back when she curled up for sleep an hour ago, but she hasn't even twitched. I have no idea what to do."

Roy honestly doesn't know where to begin either, but he isn't in any hurry to admit that. He sits down on the bed next to the cub and runs a hand down her back, marveling at the feel of the prickly juvenile scales. There'd been a time not too long ago when he thought he'd never get to see a cub, that his race would die out completely with his generation, and now here's this perfect creature curled up next to him.

And there will be more, one day. Hawkeye has a soulmate waiting for her as well, and there are so many men and women they'd left behind—

Roy shakes his head sharply as if a fly had landed on it, refocusing himself on the present. There will be plenty of other times to think about the future; right now he has a stubborn cub and a good friend's sanity to worry about. He gives Elicia a gentle little shake.

"Elicia, it's time to wake up!" he says brightly, ignoring the discontent little growl she gives him. "Naptime's over! Don't you want to play with Uncle Roy?"

The sound of his name works like magic. She perks up as if she'd never been asleep at all, giving a happy little yip, and pounces. Roy is knocked onto his back on the floor, the weight of a baby dragon pinning him to the ground as Elicia rubs the side of her face against his, and all he can do is laugh.

"I'm happy to see you too, Sweetheart," he says, kissing the side of her head. "Are you going to let me up?"

Elicia gives a rumbling growl-purr and sits down on his stomach. Roy rolls his eyes—he hadn't actually expected any other response—and sets to wrestling her off of him. It's a fun little game, testing the strength of his human body against that of a dragon cub, and for a long few minutes he forgets why he's doing it to begin with.

He wins, of course. He isn't as weak as a normal human, and Elicia is fighting on instinct besides, so the result is inevitable. The cub still pouts, putting her head on her paws and looking betrayed.

"Sorry, but it'll be a while yet before you can win that fight," Roy tells her seriously, rubbing her head affectionately. "And if you beat your dad it's because he's a pushover, hardly any competition at all."

"Hey!" Maes says from the hallway.

Elicia pouts more, then gets up and crawls into Roy's lap. She rests her head on Roy's shoulder, whining pathetically, and Roy automatically hugs her close in an effort to appease her.

"Will you turn back into a human for me, Elicia?" he asks softly. "Everyone's here to see you, but not all of the men can handle dragon cubs. And I'd like to see your pretty smile."

Elicia growls a little, digging sharp claws into Roy's legs. Roy sighs, shifting uncomfortably.

"Elicia," he says. "Your claws are hurting me."

Elicia yelps and climbs back off his lap, looking horrified, but doesn't turn back into a human. This makes Roy frown, and he gets up from the floor, leaning over her in concern.

"Are you not able to turn back?" he asks quietly. "Is that the problem?"

Hell, he hopes it isn't. He has no idea where he'll go for help if that's the case; any Dragon doctors are strictly under Alliance control, and there's no way he'll be able to get anywhere near them.

Thankfully, Elicia is emphatically shaking her head, and she sits back on her haunches and glares up at him. If she'd been human, her arms would have been crossed. The view makes Roy smile.

"I see. So you won't even turn back for me? I suppose we should just leave." He turns to walk out of the bedroom, but Elicia makes an absurd noise of denial and latches on to his sleeve with her teeth. Roy looks down at her with his eyebrows raised. "Well, turn back then."

The cub glares fiercely at him in answer, not letting go of his sleeve.

Roy is out of ideas at this point. He's loathe to _really_ order Elicia to turn back, not wanting to overstep his boundaries into Maes's pack more than he already is (even though he suspects Maes wouldn't mind), and there is little he can bribe the cub with that she can only have when she's human. So he does what he always does when he doesn't know what to do: he turns imploring eyes toward Hawkeye.

Hawkeye sighs, and steps around Maes to enter the bedroom as well. Elicia perks up again at the sight of her, but doesn't pounce as she'd done with Roy.

"Elicia," Hawkeye says in her serious voice. "If you don't turn back into a human, I'm afraid I won't be able to play with you today."

Elicia whines, one long, high note. Then she shifts abruptly back into her human form, a tiny little thing with bedhead and blinding pink pajamas, and smiles as if she hadn't driven her father into an emotionally stressed half-shift.

"Hi, Aunt Riza!" she says brightly, rushing forward. She stops at Hawkeye's toes and holds her hands up, a request to be picked up that the woman immediately complies with. "Uncle Roy never lets me win any of our fights."

"Alphas are unexplainable, I'm afraid," Hawkeye says, calmly carrying Elicia from the room. "It's best to just humor him so he doesn't get cranky."

"Thank you for your help, Roy," Gracia says softly, coming over to give him a peck on the cheek before she follows after Hawkeye. "I'm going to fix everyone something for lunch and get a cake started. Elicia deserves something special for her first shift!"

" _Did_ I help?" Roy asks ruefully after she leaves the room, turning to Maes. But Maes isn't paying attention to him. He's staring after the women, a tragic expression on his face that would have done some of the ancient playwrights proud. "What in the 'verse is wrong now?"

"Riza came in, and she shifted back just like that," Maes says dramatically, tears brimming in his eyes. "Aren't I her favorite anymore? Have I been usurped by Riza Hawkeye already? How can my most amazing, my most precious, my most—"

Roy rolls his eyes and strides out of the room, leaving Maes to his dramatics. The man probably won't even notice he's gone.


	2. First Impressions

A/N: Nine thousand words still counts as a short story, right? RIGHT?

This part is definitely shippy. The first bit is in Al's POV and is Al/Riza with some minor Havoc/Fuery. The second bit is in Ed's POV and is 100000% Roy/Ed, which is the main pairing of the series. A LOT of worldbuilding in this section, plus the meet-cutes, and some heavy-handed foreshadowing….

Warnings: Ed-level cursing? SHOUNEN AI. Mild violence, mild angst, a lot of sap.

Story Summary: One of the things they say about soulmates is absolutely true: the first meeting never goes the way you expect it to.

* * *

 _First Impressions_

… _and when one of them meets the other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment…  
_ **-Plato,** **The Symposium**

Al comes back to himself slowly, in a mild amount of pain and knowing without opening his eyes that he has no idea where he is. It's a distressingly familiar feeling at this point (he would blame Ed, but honestly he's not been the reasonable influence he probably should be lately), and he holds back a sigh with some trouble. Keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even, he starts taking stock of his surroundings. The lack of pain is worrying, as is the revelation that he can breathe without issue; he knows what kind of shape he'd been in before he'd passed out, and this screams of professional healing that he shouldn't have been able to get. The annoying beeping noises and faint murmur of voices in the distance says hospital, and a hospital should mean he's been captured. But he's not tied down, which suggests they don't know who they have, so nobody should have brought him to the hospital.

None of it makes sense. He doesn't like it.

But he's not going to find out anything by pretending to be unconscious, so he opens his eyes reluctantly and breathes in a little sharply as if he woke up suddenly. The woman sitting at his bedside snaps to attention instantly, but though her shoulders are military-straight and her eyes are sharp, the small smile she gives him is kind and lovely. He wishes he could trust it.

"Hello, Alfons," she says brightly, which isn't quite his name. He opens his mouth to say so, irritated, but she holds up a subtle finger to halt him and mouths what looks like 'play along'. Al hesitates briefly, staring at her in confusion, but finally decides to see what her game is.

"H-hello," he stutters, and takes a sharp breath and holds it and _refuses to cough_. The woman's eyes crinkle at the corners, the only sign of her concern, and she reaches for a pitcher of water on the bedside table. After pouring a cup, she helps him into a seated position, and sits on the bed next to him to help him drink. One arm she leaves behind his back, bracing him should he slip, and with this hand she traces _Elizabeth_ into his side. The other hand holds the glass up to his lips, and her sleeve falls back slightly to reveal a strong wrist. _Alphonse Elric_ stretches over it like a half-bracelet, tiny and neat in his own impeccable handwriting.

Al nearly chokes on the water, swallows it with some difficulty, then pushes her hand away to turn and look at the woman incredulously. This time he takes in the long blonde hair held up in a sensible bun, the soft brown eyes, and notes how incredibly beautiful she is.

"Oh," he says, feeling a blush spread across his cheeks. "Oh, you're—um. Elizabeth. Hi."

She smiles at him a little more brightly than before, putting the cup back on the nightstand and slowly getting up. She leaves him leaning against the headboard.

"I'm going to go get a nurse and see what we can do about getting you released," she says softly, bending to give him a simple kiss on the cheek. She hovers for another moment, clearly unwilling to leave, but finally turns and exits the room with a confident walk. Al can't stop himself from grinning like an idiot as he watches her. It's not the scenario he had in mind for the moment, but he's found her! He touches a hand to his collarbone briefly, savors the feeling of finally knowing the woman behind the name etched into it like a tattoo, and waits patiently for her return.

The nurses are pleasantly efficient, if a little nervous and constantly shooting 'Elizabeth' mildly disconcerted looks. Al's soulmate, in turn, watches them all with an even expression that doesn't twitch once, no matter how familiar with Al they have to get in the course of their jobs. It's rather impressive for a race as territorial as hers, and Al has to keep fighting back the urge to stare at her and grin like an idiot (because he clearly _is_ an idiot).

Finally, they declare that they've done everything they can to help Al, and they manhandle him into a wheelchair despite his protests, then walk him out to the front where the paperwork to release him is surprisingly simple. He shoots 'Elizabeth' a suspicious look (she responds with a half-smile that means nothing at all), but fills in what little is left and makes up a signature for 'Alfons' on the spot. He'll have to dig his alternate persona's information out of her eventually and fill in all the holes she left.

She takes his elbow as they walk down the hospital escalator, leans into him and says, "We can talk on the ship." All the subterfuge really ought to be making Al nervous, but with the life he and his brother lead he actually finds it soothing right now. If she's already in enough trouble to require going to such lengths, then maybe he won't ruin her life.

They're just approaching the dock when their luck nearly runs out. Al sees a pair of familiar white suits and almost freezes in fear, but thankfully the woman at his side continues inexorably on—though she does alter their path slightly. She shoots him a look that asks questions she can't voice yet, and Al swallows hard and shakes his head. There are some answers he can't give, and the Wraiths...honestly, it's best if she doesn't know. He certainly wishes he didn't. There were enough monsters in the universe without adding perfectly sentient ones to the mix.

Al keeps an eye out for more of them, but it seems like the Wraiths either hadn't seen him or were looking for something (or some _one_ ) else entirely. It doesn't make him feel any relief. Those people are single-minded in the pursuit of their prey, and if they catch sight of Al—

"Which dock are we on?" Al asks with forced casualness after he jumps at seeing a woman in a white dress in his peripheral vision.

"It isn't far," he's assured calmly. He takes a deep breath, and thinks calm thoughts. Long showers. Actual on-planet sunsets. The taste of fresh fruit. Kittens.

"Hey, Liz, hurry up!" a voice calls, and he looks up with a start. Another man is waving from the bottom of the ramp of a waiting ship, a cigarette dangling from his lips. A pair of pointy golden ears are pointed forward in interest, and a fluffy golden tail trails by his feet. Beside him, both arms looped around one of his, is a smaller man with floppy black ears and a small black tail that's whipping back and forth excitedly. "The rats are starting to sniff around and I ain't eating 'em this time!"

Al really, really hopes that's a metaphor for something. Ew, rats.

"We're all set to go," 'Elizabeth' says. "Go get the ship ready for takeoff and I'll show Alfons where everything is. We can meet on the bridge to get acquainted."

The blond man gives her a hearty salute, and he and his friend bound up the ramp without further instructions.

"Are you the captain?" Al asks curiously.

'Elizabeth' doesn't say anything for another long moment as the ramp closes behind them. "No," she sighs in exasperation, "he's been in something of a sulk since we found you. He won't admit it, but he's upset I've found my soulmate first. We rather expected..."

Al stares at her curiously, but she doesn't take her thought up again. Instead she shows him around the ship. All of the bedrooms are occupied, and when she points out her own she hesitates briefly.

"Alphonse," (Al's heart skips and he grins stupidly at the sound of his real name) "I hope we weren't being presumptuous, but when we realized that you were my soulmate, we decided it would be best if you bunked with me. I understand if you're not comfortable with it yet, and we can always change if you like."

"Oh, no, it's fine!" Al assures her quickly, even though he knows he's blushing again. "I mean, I mean I don't know if I'll want to—you know—right away, we barely know each other, but I'd like to stay as close to you as possible. I guess. I mean, as close as you want me to, I don't want to crowd you..."

Riza—and boy does it feel good to use her real name—smiles at him again, like she thinks he's adorable, and Al ducks his head and rubs at the back of his neck. She really is beautiful, and quite a bit older than him, and Al isn't certain what he had done to deserve a soulmate like her. Perhaps he'd been really amazing in a past life. Thank you, past life self.

"Why don't you come inside for a moment?" Riza asks softly, opening the door to her room and ducking inside. Al follows her automatically, looking around curiously. It's scrupulously neat, which he approves of, and has a collection of guns scattered over the walls that he likes a little less. The bed, pushed into a corner to leave as much floorspace available as possible, is large and comfortable-looking and will definitely fit both of them. Which is good, because there's no sign of another place for Al to sleep.

Riza steps up to him, a brief uncertain look flitting across her face as she puts a hand flat against his chest. Her fingertips rest on his collarbone, right where her name would be visible if it wasn't covered by his shirt, and Al licks his lips nervously. He has no idea what to do. Does she want him to kiss her? He's never kissed _anyone_ before, he'd wanted to wait for his soulmate and wouldn't have been able to anyway—

She curls her fingers in his shirt and pulls him gently down into a chaste kiss. Al tries to reciprocate, which seems to mess the whole thing up, and she huffs a soft laugh into his mouth that doesn't seem upset at all, then slowly, gently nudges him in the right direction. Al wraps his arms around her when he gets the hang of it, and his tongue in her mouth is absolute _heaven_ , and he never wants to stop.

After what feels simultaneously like a bare second and several long hours, she gently pushes him away and says, "We have to meet up with the rest of the crew."

"Right," Al says faintly, staring at her lips blankly. Then he gives himself a sharp shake and forces himself to let go of her, stepping back and smiling more brightly than he can remember smiling in a long time. "Right, the crew. Shall we?"

He offers her his arm and, smiling again, she takes it.

They're on the bridge more quickly than Al would like, but he fights back the disappointment he feels at not being alone with his soulmate any longer. Several pairs of eyes turn to them as they enter, and Riza's grip on his arm tightens as something in her expression hardens.

What Al had first thought was a particularly ugly statue holds up its hands in a gesture signifying a lack of threat. "Easy, Hawkeye," the gargoyle says. "Nobody's eying up your territory. Especially not in _his_ territory."

Four nervous sets of eyes glance over to the command chair, then swiftly look away. Nobody seems to know quite where to look or what to say, and into the tense silence, Riza heaves a very quiet put-upon sigh. The man in the command chair doesn't move from the lazy sprawl he's in, though his eyes do open just a sliver.

"Why don't you sit in the co-pilot's seat, Alphonse," Riza says, the lack of question in her tone emphasized by her gentle tug on his arm. Al obligingly lets her maneuver him, and is rewarded with her seating herself primly in his lap. He suspects it's a territorial thing and doesn't comment on it.

"So, introductions!" the pilot says eventually, clapping his hands once and grinning at Al. It's the blond-haired man from earlier, his tail now curled up around his own waist in a display of nerves. "I'm Jean Havoc; I fly this heap o' bolts."

 _This_ gets a reaction from the man in the command chair: he growls, not very loudly, but a clear warning nonetheless. Al seems to be the only one remotely bothered by it, so he tries to shrug it off as easily as the crew does.

"And this guy is Kain Fuery, my soulmate and the best damn mechanic a boat could ask for!" Havoc continues heartily, reaching out a hand, and the other dogman appears as if he'd been summoned there. Al could have _sworn_ he'd been on the other side of the room a second earlier.

"I'm really much more suited towards communications than ship maintenance," Fuery says humbly, blushing even as his tail wags a little in pleasure. Havoc gives him a look of clear adoration.

"They're sickening, aren't they?" the gargoyle says, not sounding grossed out at all. Perhaps he's just used to it. "Heymans Breda, strategy and logistics and, most importantly, up way past my bedtime." And as Al watches, he goes as still and silent as a statue again. Creepy.

"He doesn't have a soulmate," Riza says. Most people included the status of their search in introductions right away, if only to prevent awkward questions later on. "Most of his race don't. He often forgets to tell people."

The fourth member of the crew looks up from the screen he had been bent over from the moment Al entered the room and gives a tiny sort of salute. He's the most curious member of all; while Riza and the so-far unnamed captain look human, there's something otherwordly about them that clearly labels them as something else, but with this last man it's hard to tell. He could be human, but Al isn't entirely certain. "Vato Falman," he introduces himself. "I specialize in most electronics and have acquired a vast amount of knowledge on an array of subjects. Please don't enquire about my soulmate."

Perhaps he's a robot. But robots don't _have_ soulmates, and "don't enquire" was how people politely announced that their soulmates were dead. The silence that followed such a statement was always respectful, sometimes slightly admiring; it took a strong person to continue on when their mate was already gone. Not everyone could do it. Not everyone even wanted to.

Everyone turns again toward the command chair. The man in it sighs as if they're all being very tiresome, stretches out his limbs with a yawn, and finally opens his eyes all the way. He leans a cheek on his fist, looking terribly bored with the events as a whole, but Al can tell by the tenseness of his shoulders and the way his gaze bores into Al's own that he is anything but.

"Roy Mustang," he says.

Al gasps and, ignoring the tension the sound initiated, blurts, "You're my brother's soulmate!" with a delighted grin.

Mustang's face slips off his hand.

"What," he says flatly, looking utterly flummoxed for only a brief second. Then he seems to pull himself together through sheer force of will, and the intensity of the look he gives Al seems to double. "Tell me where he is."

"Oh, our rendezvous point changed based on the date," Al says slowly, trying to figure out just how late he is in meeting back up with Ed. He'd been so distracted by finding Riza he hadn't even glanced at the date on the discharge papers, but now as he recalls them his eyes widen in horror. "Was that date on the papers in Standard?"

"It was an Alliance-approved hospital," Riza says.

"I'm almost three weeks past our latest date!" he moans. "He's in trouble, he's bound to be in trouble, he always does something _stupid_ —"

" _Where is he?_ " Mustang snarls, making a threatening movement towards Al that's aborted by a warning growl from Riza.

Al rubs at his face, thinking hard. Ed would have called all of their usual contacts and safe spots nonstop the moment Al had missed their latest possible rendezvous date, then would have burnt all the fuel in their ship several times over checking out their shadier contacts. There was a possibility he was still on his second-to-last resort, but if he wasn't and Al was wrong—and he'd end up moving on anyway when Ling didn't have any information.

"I have to go to Lior," he says dully.

The vehement and repeated denials are expected, of course. Absolutely nobody goes to Lior these days, not since the Alliance had moved in on rumors of a rebellious religious cult and utterly decimated the planet. The survivors don't like to be reminded of the government that had destroyed them, even in the form of people running from said government, and they have a habit of killing first and asking questions later.

What the crew don't know is that Ed and Al had been the ones to accidentally spread the rumors, and that many of the people take their continued existence personally.

"I'm not asking you to come with me," Al finally snaps, irritated by the argument going on around him. Riza had kept clear of it, and remains seated with unnatural calm in his lap. "He's my brother. Just get me close enough to steal a ship large enough to get there."

"You're not going alone," Riza says, softly but in a tone that brooks no argument.

"It's suicide," Havoc says. "They'll slit your throat sooner than you can blink—"

"And if it were Kain?" Mustang asks coldly. "Would you be insisting we leave him there to face certain death alone?"

Havoc's protests fall silent, and nobody says anything else as Mustang looks pointedly around at them all. "I am not losing my mate before I've even found him. And if the locals wish to kill me, they'll discover there are much easier targets than a lone dragon, won't they?"

The grin he gives them has far too many teeth to fit comfortably in a human mouth. Despite himself, Al finds it to be strangely comforting and can't help but think that Ed's intense soulmate is entirely too suited for him.

xxxxx

Ed barrels down the hallway without really seeing where he's going, more pissed off than panicked, but either way too distracted for unimportant things like paying attention to his surroundings. He hadn't even managed to get _to_ Rose before the vultures had found him, and this time the remains of the cult had apparently all crawled out of the woodwork at once to hunt him down and get revenge for his and Al's stupid fumble all those years ago. Like they'd meant to bring the Alliance down on the planet, like they'd _wanted_ Bradley anywhere near them or anyone they were affiliated with—but there were some things you just didn't fucking mess with, and that priest hadn't had any idea of what he was playing with—

And now these assholes are preventing him from his last chance of getting information about Al. Not that it's likely Rose has any information when nobody else did, but if there's anything here and he misses it because of a herd of fanatics he's going to be fucking _furious_.

The turn at the end of the hall catches him by surprise, and he curses briefly as he skims the wall when he turns too late—and then shouts in alarm when he sees the man that's just cresting the top stair.

He has too much forward momentum to stop, even after getting slowed down by the turn. Ed runs straight into the stranger, feels him reach out for the banister, and for a breathless second they teeter at the top of the stairs like the man might just manage to keep their balance. Then they're tumbling down, each step more painful than the last, and when they finally hit the landing, Ed just lays there sprawled face-down on the floor and hates _everything_.

It's only a moment before the stranger is shifting, clearly not too harmed by the fall. "Are you alright?" he asks Ed quietly.

"I'm fine," Ed grumbles to the floor. "Sorry about the stairs."

"Are you sure you're fine?" the man presses, his deep voice sounding unaccountably concerned and, dammit, that makes Ed feel guilty for just laying there. He sighs in irritation and pushes himself to his knees, ignores the startled little noise the man makes, and would have explained himself if he hadn't felt the lightest of touches at the back of his neck.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Ed snarls, slapping the hand away and jerking himself out of reach. He slaps his own hand over the back of his neck protectively. "I said I was fucking fine, you don't have any damn right—"

"I'm sorry," the man says, holding his hands up placatingly, and Ed unhappily subsides to wait for an explanation. The man doesn't seem interested in giving one, however; he's just looking over Ed with a weird expression on his face, almost _hungrily_ , and it makes Ed want to cover himself even though every inch of his skin is covered from the neck down.

"What's your problem?" Ed snaps, backing away a little, not that there's far for him to go. "Never seen a human before?"

The man flinches at the question, then gives Ed a look that he can't quite read. He steps forward and Ed automatically puts his back right up against the wall, not certain what's going on but feeling safer with the knowledge that nobody can come up behind him. The man keeps his hands up unthreateningly, telegraphs every move to show that he's not going to harm Ed, and puts himself right up in Ed's personal space.

"I've known a few humans," he says, voice intimately low. Ed isn't really certain why he hasn't just decked the bastard yet. It's probably because he's really good-looking, like, _obscenely_ good-looking, and it would be kind of upsetting to ruin his face. "But this is the first time I've met you, Edward."

Every single one of Ed's body processes grinds to a sudden, unavoidable halt. How the hell could he possibly know—

A commotion at the top of the stairs catches their attention, and Ed's heart starts up again only to speed at least double its usual rate. He thinks he's having a heart attack.

"Just kill them both, then!" one of the priests growls at another, and an old-fashioned but still potentially deadly gun is aimed in their direction.

The man Ed had knocked down the stairs growls, actually fucking growls, and grips Ed's collar firmly to drag him, unprotesting, through a nearby doorway into a mostly-destroyed temple. Ed can hear the priests cursing and clattering down the stairs behind them, but he ignores it so he can focus on breathing evenly until he no longer feels like he's going to have a panic attack.

"Who the fuck _are_ you?" Ed demands angrily, ignoring the hoarseness of his own voice and wrenching the man's hand off his collar with his prosthetic hand. "If you've come to fucking kill me—"

The man spins around, and his perfect features have been overlaid with something positively _reptilian_. Black scales have climbed up the sides of his neck and are creeping over his cheeks as Ed watches, and the hands that come up to gently cup Ed's face end in sharp claws that could tear a man to shreds.

"I would _never_ ," he says fervently. "There's not enough money or power in the universe to convince me—"

Ed has just enough time to think ' _holy shit_ ' before the door they hadn't quite shut behind them bursts open and the priests come in with their weaponry held at the ready. The man who must be Ed's soulmate turns towards them more slowly than he'd whirled on Ed, but as he's turning he's also changing shape, his form shimmering and stretching strangely until Ed's standing in shocked surprise behind the protective bulk of an adult dragon.

There isn't the sound of gunshot, or even the high whine of a laser going off. After a brief pause, though, there is a loud crunch, and then the pieces of the gun clatter noisily to the floor.

"Edward is _mine_ ," Roy Mustang rumbles to the petrified men.

"Fuck me," Ed breathes, a grin splitting his face, and he shuffles to the side so he can peer around the dragon's bulk and see what's going on. The priests look simultaneously furious and too scared to do anything about it, but they rally at the sight of Ed's face.

"This heathen is responsible for the destruction of our planet!" one of them says dramatically, pointing at Ed. Ed rolls his eyes. He felt bad about the way things had turned out, yeah, but these people were insane. "We have a right to his life!"

Roy brings his head down to the priest's own, and Ed can't see his expression from this angle, but enjoys the way the priests both flinch back. "You think your vengeance a greater claim on him than my Mark?" he asks, all quiet fury and implicit threat. "Then there will be laws in place for me to fight your claim, of course. Would you care to choose your champion?"

"D-don't speak of things you know nothing about, monster!" the priest says. "I'm not interested in your false Mark—"

"Watch your fucking words," Ed growls, stalking toward the priest until Roy slides his front leg into his way. Ed huffs in irritation, but subsides. He'll break Roy of this stupid protective streak later, when there aren't people threatening to kill him.

"Regardless of your interest, my first statement remains true," Roy says. "And if you're not going to respect this, well, the only question left is which one of you I should eat first."

Ed's _pretty_ sure he's not actually going to eat either of the men, because that's just all kinds of fucked up, but he smirks anyway like the thought amuses him. The priests look at each other uncertainly, shuffle a bit closer together, and put their heads in close to confer with each other. Ed tries not to laugh.

"We'll let you go this time, Elric," the priest finally says loftily, now ignoring Roy entirely in an attempt to regain his dignity. Ed rolls his eyes, unimpressed. "But don't expect such generosity from our people if you dare to show your face on this planet again!"

"Generosity, sure," Ed drawls. "Next time I just won't get caught."

The priests sneer at them, but Roy has clearly done a good job of spooking them, because they don't say anything else. Ed watches to make sure they're going to leave, then ducks out from behind Roy's protective stance before the door has closed behind them. Roy hasn't looked away yet, which gives Ed a chance to look the dragon over. He's solid black and powerful, quite nearly as beautiful as his human form had been, and right smack in the middle of his chest Ed's messy scrawl stands out like a particularly ugly scar.

He tugs the glove off his left hand and runs it down the leg next to him. "Shit," he says, marveling at the feel of the scales under his palm. He doesn't run it the other way, even though he really wants to. Dragon scales are sharp enough to cut if you're not careful, Ed knows; he's done the reading. "Is this for real? I'm not having some sort of weird concussion-related hallucination, am I?"

Then he breaks into peals of nervous, slightly hysterical laughter, because, wow, he'd just met his soulmate by _knocking him down the stairs_. How fucked up was that?

"Shhh," Roy says soothingly, nuzzling at Ed's head in a way that kind of makes Ed want to hit him and kind of makes him want to melt. "You're alright. Everything's fine."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," Ed says. "Just—I'm the only asshole in the 'verse who could meet his soulmate by knocking them down the stairs. Everything I touch is such a fucking mess."

"I'm certain that's just hyperbole," Roy murmurs, taking in a deep breath. The nuzzling stops and his head dips lower, tucking under Ed's chin and craning his head back uncomfortably. He breathes in deeply again, but this time it ends in a growl.

"What are you doing?" Ed asks blankly.

"Somebody's left their scent all over you," the dragon growls. "What fool was trying to mark you as their possession?"

"Wait, _what_?" Ed says. It's not that he doesn't believe Roy, he's just surprised at the sheer fucking audacity of Ling when he knew damn well that their agreement was temporary. "You've got to be shitting me."

"Who was it?" Roy asks, an urgency to his tone that makes Ed hesitate. Roy growls again when Ed doesn't answer him, shifting suddenly back into his human form. He backs Ed up into what feels like the altar, pinning him with the weight of his body and the possessive softness of his hands on Ed's neck. Ed grabs hold of the front of Roy's shirt with both hands to hold himself steady, wondering why the hell his head feels like it's swimming. " _Who?_ "

"Nobody important," Ed says slowly, struggling to think. There's something weird here, something he doesn't like at all, and if he could just get his head on straight to figure out what it is... "He gives me information, and we had an agreement, but he knew it was over as soon as I met you."

"Did he now?" Roy asks, sounding doubtful. He starts pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to Ed's neck, and that's, okay, really fucking distracting. In between kisses, he adds, "I believe he may have been trying to change that."

"No," Ed denies. Ling wouldn't.

"Tell me his name, Edward," Roy says, enticing. "And I'll find out."

Ed bites his lip against the urge to do what Roy is demanding, pushing against his chest to keep them as separate as possible. He's suddenly aware of the deliciously musty scent that Roy gives off, but the awareness doesn't make it any easier to clear his thoughts.

"You fucker," he says weakly. "You're an _alpha_."

Roy blinks down at him with confusion. Ed snarls soundlessly, bunches up the front of Roy's shirt in his fists, and it takes far more effort than it ought to to spin them around so that Roy's pressed up against the altar instead. The shapeshifter may be taller than Ed, and he might even be stronger if he puts his mind to it, but Ed has been fighting for his life for _most_ of his life, and he's got more tricks up his sleeve than almost anyone he knows.

"Listen good, because I'm only going to say this once," he says as threateningly as he can when his head is still swimming with the need to give Roy whatever he wants. "I don't like being forced to do shit. And I know you don't think of it this way, I know this alpha shit is just fucking natural for you, but you aren't going to pull this on me again. If you want something from me, you ask for it, and you keep your damn pheromones to yourself!"

Roy rubs at Ed's hips, tries to pull him in close to soothe his anger, but Ed doesn't budge. "I hadn't even realized what I was doing," Roy says, a wry tone to his voice. "All I was thinking about was discovering the name of the person who thought they could keep you for themselves." This time when he gently tugs Ed forward, Ed allows himself to be moved, and he leans comfortably into the larger body in front of him. Roy's voice drops low and dangerous. "If anybody tries to take you from me, Edward Elric, I will utterly destroy them."

Ed should probably find it at least a little alarming that Roy is threatening to kill anyone who touches him, but instead finds the assertion to be strangely touching. "I can take care of my fucking self," he grumbles anyway, then uses the grip he already has on Roy's shirt to pull him closer. "Now shut up and kiss me before I strangle you, you stupid bas—"

Roy's lips on his are demanding and possessive, and the arms that wrap around him are even worse. Ed would like to pretend that it's the lingering effects of the pheromones that convince him to let the older man have his way, but he tries not to lie to himself most days. The truth is that he likes Roy's strength, likes that his soulmate is not only clearly capable of protecting him but that he also wants to. It's nice to know that there's finally someone he can give himself over to, so when he's sick of trying to be in control of everything he can easily hand over the reins.

When they finally have to part to catch their breaths, Roy drops his head to Ed's neck again. "Mine," he growls in between fluttering kisses and little nips that are probably going to leave marks. "Nobody else, _nobody_ can ever touch you—"

Ed tilts his head to the side and wraps his arms around Roy's neck. "Yeah," he breathes, distantly appalled by the shake in his voice. "All yours."

This seems to calm Roy down some. He pauses to breathe deeply into Ed's neck, then kisses his way back to Ed's lips. This kiss is less demanding, more of a request as he runs gentle hands up and down Ed's back, and Ed still helplessly lets him have control. It's a damn good thing this man is his soulmate, because he's already undone and they haven't even gotten to the good part yet.

He isn't sure how long it takes before they manage to part for longer than just the moment needed to catch their breath. Roy keeps one hand wrapped firmly around Ed's waist, and the other cups his cheek.

"My beautiful treasure," he murmurs, and a cheeky grin blooms on his face as Ed instantly blushes. "You are everything I could possibly have dreamed of."

"Shut up," Ed snaps, ducking his face into Roy's chest to hide his embarrassment. Roy laughs, doesn't seem to mind his bad temper at all, and Ed flounders in uncertainty. Most people are put off by his rudeness, and he'd fully expected Roy to be hurt by his inability to handle the sap. But Roy just kisses the top of his head and keeps touching him like he wants to memorize Ed's body with his fingertips.

Ed tenses when those fingers ghost over his right shoulder. He presses his face more firmly to Roy's chest, bites his lip against the torrent of nervous babble that wants to come out, but can't do anything about the way he trembles. Nobody has ever reacted well to the realization that he has prosthetic limbs, even people who have no room to judge. If it's not pity, it's anger, as if he'd somehow lost them on purpose, as if he'd wanted all this metal weighing him down.

The problem is, people think if you've had any major life experiences before you've met your soulmate, you've cheated them out of something. It's stupid and ridiculous, nothing but a romantic ideal, and yet somehow the myth persists. Everyone is a blank slate until they meet their other half, and then they can grow together.

It's the biggest bullshit he's ever heard in his life. Some people are lucky enough to meet their mates young, but when your soulmate can be anybody across the known universe? Most people just manage not to have lives that scar them so visibly.

Roy's hand settles at the back of Ed's shoulder blade, and he runs his thumb softly along the join of flesh and metal. "I had thought one of your arms felt unusually heavy," he says. "I hoped I was just dizzy from kissing you."

Ed stops gnawing on his lip and looks up slowly. Roy looks back down at him, curious and understanding and a little bit angry, but not, Ed thinks, at him. Angry at whatever had hurt him.

"Most of my left leg is gone too," he blurts, surprising himself. The emotions that cross Roy's face are complicated, and Ed closes his eyes. Behind them, he sees instead a large, dark room. There are too many blinking lights around him, and the silhouette that hovers over him has a grin that is too wide for its small face. His eyes snap open again, and he knows he must look terrified because Roy's arms encircle him, protective. "I can't—I fucking can't—"

Roy shushes him, nuzzling behind his ear, and if it had been anyone else he'd be pissed enough about it to knock the jackass flat on their back. But his soulmate is immune somehow, damn it all, and he only growls a little as Roy whispers comforting nonsense to him. He doesn't deserve this man. As much pain as he'd gone through, what they'd done to Al had been worse—

"FUCK!" he yelps, jerking backwards so suddenly he nearly manages to escape Roy's grip on him. Unfortunately, Roy is ridiculously tenacious and clings like a fucking leech, and Ed damn near dislocates his own hip trying to get loose. "Dammit, let the fuck go! I can't believe I let you fucking distract me this much, I've gotta find him, he's gotta be alive—"

"Find who?" Roy asks, not letting go. Ed will be impressed by his ability to keep up with him later. "Edward, wait!"

"Let _go_!" Ed insists, putting all of his strength into pulling away again.

This backfires spectacularly, of course. Roy doesn't let go, and Ed trips over a fallen bit of statue. He automatically reaches for something to stop his fall, and grabs hold of the front of Roy's shirt. Roy, who still has a death grip on him, and was already off-balance.

They collapse in a tangle of limbs, and Ed's breath is knocked out of him again. Roy, the fucker, scrambles while Ed is still seeing stars, and successfully manages to box him in. Ed glares balefully up at him.

"I hate you," he says with all the venom he can muster.

"If it's your brother you're panicking about," Roy says seriously, ignoring his statement entirely, "he's with my second in command. He's why I'm here. We came to find you."

"Wh-how is he—and why isn't he with _you_?" The announcement is so unexpected Ed doesn't know quite how to feel, so he settles into his comfortable default: anger. "Do you have any idea how dangerous this planet is? Anything could happen, and if the priests saw him too..."

"We split up to cover more ground, since Alphonse wasn't certain where your friend would be," Roy says, his voice dry. "And I almost feel badly for any priest who encountered Riza when she's feeling protective."

Ed opens his mouth, considers the offered name, and closes it again. "His soulmate Riza?" he asks slowly. Roy just smiles, and Ed allows himself to relax a little in relief. He knows Al's soulmate is a Dragon too, and so she's just as dangerous as Roy. He's probably fine. "Okay, I guess you're not completely useless. Now let me up."

"I don't think I want to," Roy says, voice low and seductive. It's irritatingly effective, but Ed is absolutely _not_ getting distracted again. He shoves Roy back with his right hand and levels the bastard with his best glare.

"You're going to let me up," he stated in a tone that doesn't merely imply the 'or else'. "And you're going to take me to my little brother, and only after that are you even going to think about sex again."

"That may be a bit difficult to enforce." Roy has his eyebrows raised skeptically, but he gets up, so Ed decides to roll his eyes rather than hit him.

Once they're both standing, Roy takes a small earbud out of his pocket and gives it a little twist before putting it in his ear. He pulls Ed in close to his side with one arm and starts wandering in what must be a random direction. Ed's pretty sure it won't take them _quite_ the way they want to go, unless Roy's deliberately taking the scenic route.

Pity the scenic route is mostly burnt-out husks these days.

"How's the romantic walk going, Elizabeth?" Roy asks in a cheerful voice. He gives Ed a wink when Ed looks at him like he's crazy. "No, the locals haven't been very welcoming on our end either. I'm sure we could've had a worse vacation, but I was still thinking we might cut it a bit short. Hm? No, no, we're both fine. Just a bit eager to leave." He pulls an exaggerated grimace and pouts down at Ed. "She doesn't believe that we're not hurt!"

"Well, you did forget to tell her about the stairs," Ed suggests.

"I don't think the stairs are very relevant here," Roy says primly. "Do you _want_ to know about the stairs, Liz? ...I didn't think so."

They chat for another minute before Roy reaches into his ear and turns the communicator off again. Ed frowns at him suspiciously as he shoves it back in his pocket, which hardly seems ideal. What if he needs to answer it in an emergency?

"Was that like some sort of code?" he asks quietly.

Roy grins down at him, looking as if he's delighted by how easily Ed understood what was happening. Not that it was terribly difficult to figure out, and the code itself is pretty simple. It's probably a lot easier to decipher if you already know what it's supposed to mean, though, so maybe he's a bit biased.

"We'll meander around a bit like lost tourists while we make our way back to the docks," Roy says. "But we'll get back faster than you'll expect."

Ed snorts and shakes his head a little. "What the hell're you on the run from?"

Roy laughs briefly. "I'll tell you if you tell me," he murmurs low in Ed's ear.

Fucker's too observant for his own good. Ed doesn't say anything, though. He isn't sure how much Al's said to his own soulmate, if he's said anything at all, and he doesn't want to give them conflicting information.

Not to mention that telling Roy what they're running from means explaining things Ed can still barely _think_ about without wanting to scream.

Phantom pains shoot down his right arm, the arm he no longer has, and Ed flinches against Roy's side. He can feel concerned eyes on him but he pretends not to notice, looking out on the ruins of Lior and remembering the planet in its prime instead. The hand on his hip rubs gentle circles into his skin until Ed lays his own hand over it.

"Don't," he says softly. "I'm fine. It's just my arm reminding me it's gone. It happens sometimes when I think about—how I lost it."

He can hear Roy take a deep breath, and then he laces his fingers together with Ed's. "Better not think about it, then," he says.

"Yeah," Ed agrees quietly, staring down at their entwined fingers. "Better not."

Hesitantly, very carefully, Ed spreads his left arm across Roy's back and hooks a finger in one of his belt loops. Roy gives his fingers a little squeeze but otherwise doesn't react, not even the slightest hitch to his measured stride. It's kind of great, actually.

It's a shame it's not going to last. Nothing Ed touches ever does.

He doesn't let himself dwell on that thought as they amble their way back to the docks. Roy is a warm and solid presence pressed up all along his left side and Ed has been pushing himself hard on little sleep since he realized Al was missing; he leans against him and rests his eyes. He's pretty sure he's more or less sleepwalking at some points, but, hell, if he can't trust his own damn soulmate, who in the 'verse is he supposed to trust?

Besides Al, of course. But that goes without saying.

"You might want to wake up a little, beautiful," Roy murmurs softly into his ear.

"Hmmm?" Ed asks, slightly annoyed by the pet name but too drowsy and content to respond to it. He opens his eyes and looks blearily around the dock, brightening considerably when he spots a familiar head of gold-blond hair. "Al!"

Al turns from the woman he's talking to and grins as brightly as Ed must be himself. He lifts one hand in a cheerful wave, the other one tangled together with his soulmate's. Deciding that that's _obviously_ not a good enough greeting, Ed worms his way out of Roy's grip to throw both of his arms around Al instead.

Somewhere behind him, Roy's annoyed growl is aborted as he clears his throat instead. Ed and Al resolutely ignore him.

"What the fuck happened, Al?" Ed asks, stepping back just far enough to pat his brother down for any obvious injuries. "Are you hurt? Do we need to get Winry? We'll have to go to her anyway, she'll actually murder me if we don't go pick her up now that you're back, but if you're hurt we should go _faster_ —"

"Brother, calm down!" Al says, laughing even as he pats Ed down himself. "We were ambushed by raiders, but Roy and his crew took me to a hospital. I'm fine. I'm sorry I worried you, but I was unconscious."

"For _three weeks_!?" Ed hears his voice go up an octave and winces, but he has more important things to worry about. He grabs Al's shoulders and looks him over again, trying to ascertain what they might have missed, what they could have done _wrong_. The underground hospitals are great in a pinch, but for something that severe...

"A real hospital, Brother," Al corrects softly. Ed gives him a sharp look. "Riza had me checked in under the name 'Alfons Heidrich', and they didn't record soulmarks. I checked."

"You're sure—they didn't see you or send anyone after you or—" Ed doesn't want to think about what could have happened, or who could be in wait for them the moment they stopped paying attention.

"I saw a few on planet, but none of them noticed me," Al assures him, voice quiet and serious. "I don't know what to tell Riza."

"Leave it alone for now," Ed suggests in the same tone. "Unless it becomes an issue."

Al chews on his lip in obvious uncertainty, probably not wanting to lie to his soulmate, but Ed doesn't know what else to do. The less people know about the things Bradley has hunting for them, the better, and if he can spare Roy even that little bit of pain, he'll do it. He suspects the man's had enough in his life already. He'd never work out as Ed's soulmate otherwise.

Shaking off the dismal thoughts, Ed wraps his little brother in one last squeezing hug before he steps back. Almost immediately, he feels two strong arms wrap around his waist, and somehow he knows it's Roy even before he feels the press of lips against his neck.

"For fuck's sake, Roy!" Ed snaps, squirming mostly in exasperation. "He's my damn brother! What do you think we're gonna do?"

"Mine," Roy growls.

"You dumbass," Ed says, and rolls his eyes at the softness of his own voice. "Didn't we already have this fucking conversation?"

He twists a little and manages to catch Roy's lips mostly by accident. Roy cups his face and kisses him firmly, thoroughly distracting him _again_. Ed decides to let him get away with it this time.

"Captain," the woman's voice says, her clipped tone effortlessly breaking into the blissful haze that had settled around Ed's mind. Shit, no wonder she was Al's soulmate. "Perhaps you could relocate this _onto_ the ship? I'd like to leave this planet as soon as possible."

Well. That sounded like a story.

"Hey, wait," Ed protests weakly. "What about my ship? We can't just leave it here; I've still got stuff on it!"

"I'm surprised the Tringhams aren't pinging you to get back on board yet," Al says mildly. "And Russell isn't making fun of how attached you are to Roy."

Ed rubs nervously at the back of his neck, looking away from the docks. "Uh," he says intelligently. "Yeah. Them."

"You...you flew that thing out here _on your own_?" Al yells. Ed winces and tries not to look guilty, but it mustn't work very well because Al starts pulling at his hair the way he does whenever he wants to strangle Ed for being stupid. "That heaping load of bolts could break down at any second, and who's going to fix it without Winry there? _You!?_ "

"Hey," Ed protests weakly. "I could probably get it running. It's just physics."

"It's just—are you—of course you're serious. You're an idiot. And you're not flying it back again." Ed barely even gets a chance to glare at Al before his little brother's holding up a finger to say he's not done. "If we can't just scrap it here, I'll fly it out because I, unlike you, pay attention when Winry tells me how to fix things!"

"Why do I keep a mechanic if I need to know how to fix it myself?" Ed complains. "It's so _boring_. Winry loves it so much, _she_ can take care of it."

"Not if she's not there, Brother!" Al yells. Ed definitely doesn't pout at him. "I'm taking the ship! And Riza. You can go with Roy."

"You can't kick me out of my own ship!" Ed snarls.

"Oh, do you want to leave me already?" Roy purrs, inserting himself into the argument and pressing himself against Ed's back. Ed's argument dies in his throat with a little 'erk' sound. "And I had such plans for our first night on board."

Roy fits against his back so damn nicely that Ed can't help but push into him just a little; Roy's arms tighten around him. "I...guess I can suck it up this time," Ed says, mouth dry.

"This is my cue to leave!" Al cuts in loudly, backing away. "Riza, do you need anything from your ship before we leave? We should go get it. Like, now."

Ed hasn't really paid much attention to Al's soulmate yet, so now he wrenches his attention away from Roy to look at her instead. She looks completely unruffled, a slight smile on her face as she addresses Roy. "I'll communicate with Havoc to make sure we both have the same destination. I have the feeling you'll be busy."

"Riza!" Al wails dramatically. "That's my brother!"

Ed watches them walk off, a warm bubble of happiness expanding in his chest at the way they cling to each other's hands. It's completely adorable, and just what Al needs: somebody slow and steady, who will be more than happy to wait until he's comfortable.

Ed, though. Ed needs something else entirely. Roy's fingers drift a little lower where they're resting on his stomach, and he shivers a little in anticipation.

Roy guides him onto his ship, where his crew is waiting anxiously for his return. The introductions are short and to the point, nobody quite daring to look Ed in the eye as Roy hovers pointedly behind him, hands never lifting from Ed's hips. It's a relief when they leave for a 'tour' of the ship instead.

It's not much of a tour. Roy briefly points out where everything is, or at least how to get there if he really needs to, and then pulls Ed into his bedroom. Ed doesn't bother resisting when he's pulled into another long, lingering kiss, even when Roy starts pulling at his clothes.

"Is this okay?" Roy asks, walking Ed backwards toward the bed. "Are you sure you don't need to wait?"

"It's fine," Ed growls impatiently. "Don't fucking patronize me."

"I'm not, I swear. I just—" He stops moving just as the back of Ed's legs tap against the bed, cupping Ed's face and staring into his eyes with painful sincerity. "I don't want you to regret anything we do."

He's too damn good at this mushy shit. Ed wraps his arms around Roy's neck, curling his flesh fingers into the fine hair at his nape. Their closeness even manages to chase away most of his usual embarrassment, and he only feels the faintest heat on his cheeks as he responds.

"I can't regret this," he says honestly. "The only thing I'd regret is not getting to have you if something fucked up tomorrow."

"How I could possibly deserve someone so perfect..." Roy whispers, but before Ed can ask what the hell he's talking about, they're kissing again. Ed closes his eyes as they fall into bed, and decides to let it go for tonight. There will be plenty of time for questions later. Right now he's going to enjoy as much of his soulmate as he can.


	3. Too Useful to Shoot

A/N: This is the part that was never meant to be. Sigh. There was Rarepair week on Tumblr and I was like, why don't I write some Favoc? And somehow I ended up writing for this series? Anyway, this actually comes **before** _Shifting_ , making this now the first part of the series. I'm not going to reorder it because that's too much work. Just enjoy the fluff instead.

Warnings: Schmoop? IDK.

Summary: **Favoc** , kind of a prequel to the rest. The only way to get transferred to Mustang's command was to be too annoying to keep around, but just too damn useful to shoot. Havoc was still expecting to get shot.

* * *

 _Too Useful to Shoot_

It was funny how the upper brass thought being transferred to Mustang's command was some sort of punishment. Sure, everyone knew the man was an alpha Dragon that had no hope of advancing in the ranks after the stunt he'd pulled on Ishval, and for some people the stagnancy probably _did_ feel like a death sentence. But the smart ones had figured out that Mustang's continued existence meant that he was just too damn useful to take out back and shoot, which in turn meant that anybody handed over to him was in the same boat. Irritating, yes, probably distrusted, and almost certainly a thorn in the side of any commander that had ever held their leash—but useful.

Havoc wasn't certain just why _he_ was too useful to shoot. Well, he wasn't deluded about his own abilities, and he knew he was a damn good sniper and an even better pilot—but weren't a lot of other soldiers? Maybe not so many of them could do both, at least not to his caliber. But keeping him around just for those two skills, when they had billions of other people across the known 'verse that they could put onto the front lines at a word? It seemed ridiculous to him, after all the hands he'd bitten.

Maybe they were hoping he'd bite Mustang too.

Thing was, everything he'd heard about Mustang suggested he'd be happy as a part of that team. Crazy rumors of the shit he could do notwithstanding (breathing fire in his human form, _really_?), scuttlebutt said he cared about his men, put his own ship right out on the frontlines with the rest of them, ate the same meager rations at the same little tables and drank the same swill as if he wasn't any better than they were. In short, he treated them like they were his own pack.

The thought always brought Havoc up short. He'd never had a military official that thought of the men as anything but cannon fodder before, and it was hard to think that even this Mustang guy would be any different. Dragons were possessive, territorial, somewhat overbearing creatures—but not of other races' soldiers. It was part of why so many of them were valued as ranking officers. If you wanted a job done, you called on a Dragon, and then you got the hell out of their way.

With a shake of his head, Havoc snapped his bag closed and threw it over his shoulder. A shuttle would take him and a couple other men to Mustang's command ship, where they'd be sorted into their new units and life would begin anew.

"Things won't be the same around here without you, man," his bunkmate said mournfully as Havoc strode out of the room. "Nobody makes fun of Gran's mustache with your flair."

Havoc laughed and gave him a half-hearted salute. "I move on to bigger and better things," he said cheerfully. "Say nice things at my memorial when the Dragon kills me, eh?"

The other soldier's bright laughter followed him down the corridor, and his tail curled contently in the air. He knew a good omen when he heard one.

An hour later, and he was huffing with some irritation as he waited for the person who was supposed to give him his orders. The two other soldiers had been lead off a few minutes earlier by a pretty brunette woman who'd grinned at Havoc's flirtatious wink, but there was no sign of anybody else even remotely official. Eyeing the milling crewmen with well-honed suspicion, he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the inner pocket of his jacket. If he was going to be kept waiting, he'd might as well indulge.

"Second Lieutenant Havoc?" a bright voice said from behind him. Havoc swore around the cigarette he'd just placed in between his lips.

"Yeah, 's me," he said reluctantly, and put the pack away before he turned around. He was prepared to start making apologies for the cigarette he still held in between his fingers, but he paused in surprise when he noticed that the man speaking to him was actually a couple ranks _below_ him. He was also a head or two shorter, wearing thick glasses and smiling way too happily for the moment. His floppy ears were up in excitement, and when Havoc leaned slightly to the side to look, he saw a short, stubby tail that was whipping back in forth in obvious excitement.

It was actually weirdly, _annoyingly_ adorable. He had to smile.

"I'm from communications, sorry we couldn't get anyone from the flight crew down here to greet you but they're all busy getting ready for take-off," the guy said in a rush, sounding a little breathless. Whether it was his obvious excitement or because he had run all the way down here to get him, Havoc wasn't sure. "Or he could've sent Hawkeye, I guess. You're a sniper too, right?"

"Yup. Expertise in flying, sniping, and being a smartass." Havoc let himself grin. "Not really good for much else, though."

"Oh, well, you'll fit right in then!" His ears sagged a little. "You might not want to talk back to Hawkeye, though. She's, um. Terrifying?"

"I'll keep that in mind," Havoc said warmly. "So, you got a name, Mr. Communications? Or is finding out what it is part of the ritual hazing?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" The guy blushed lightly, and his smile was nervous as he held out his hand. "I'm Kain Fuery."

Havoc dropped his cigarette.

"You…?" he croaked, a little stunned. Kain's smile wavered uncertainly, but it was the dip of his hand that forced Havoc into movement again. He grabbed Kain's hand and pulled him into a tight hug, burying his nose in his short hair. Kain squeaked in alarm, but hugged back with equal fervor.

"I had no idea you were here," Havoc muttered, ignoring the taste of Kain's hair gel. "I'd have tried harder to get reassigned earlier if I had."

"It's okay. I haven't been here long." Kain pulled back slightly and beamed up at him. "I might have taken over the job of fetching you from someone else. I wanted to meet you without anyone else around."

"Probably for the best," Havoc admitted ruefully. "My reaction wasn't exactly graceful."

"I've seen worse," Kain assured him. He moved in again and tucked his nose hesitantly under Havoc's jaw. When Havoc didn't protest, he took a deep breath, and his body relaxed entirely. Havoc held him a little closer and nuzzled an ear, which twitched and lightly slapped his face.

"Aren't you supposed to take me to my new bunk?" he asked softly. "Introduce me to my bunkmates? If they're even there at this time of day, that is."

"I'm _supposed_ to take you to the command deck," Kain corrected, not that he sounded like he wanted to. "Mustang wants to meet you."

That was enough to put a halt to Havoc's shameless flirting. What the hell did the man want to meet him for, if he hadn't met with either of the soldiers that had come with him? He knew he'd stuck out in Gran's command, being one of the few idiots daring enough—or maybe _dumb_ enough—to mouth off to him straight to his face, but that wasn't any reason for Mustang to want a word with him.

Maybe it was just a warning not to do the same to him. Posturing, like. He hoped to hell it was just posturing.

"Better get a move on, I guess," Havoc muttered, wishing he'd had a minute or two to smoke now. "Never met an officer who liked to be kept waiting."

"The Colonel's patient when he wants to be," Kain said reassuringly, and gave Havoc a shyly mischievous smile. "If we take the long route but walk fast, he probably won't say anything."

Havoc caught himself by surprise when he laughed despite his nerves, and had to resist the urge to kiss Kain in appreciation. He suspected if he let himself start now, he wouldn't be able to convince himself to stop any time soon.

Instead, he took his soulmate's hand and let Kain lead him along a winding path through ship. He suspected they weren't moving as quickly as they ought to be, but as he felt his tail wave behind him in an idle content he was unfamiliar with, he wasn't certain how much he cared. Officers could wait. It wasn't every day you met your soulmate.

Sadly, battleships could only be so big before they were made impractical, and they were soon approaching the doors of the command deck. Havoc made an annoyed face at them, not wanting to disturb the peace he had with Kain, but they opened automatically as soon as they registered the presence of a pair of hominids.

Most command decks Havoc had been on were hectic with activity as takeoff approached, but this one was almost disturbing in its relative calm. The man in the middle of the room wasn't even the one issuing orders; instead, a severe-looking blonde woman was standing nearby and speaking in clipped tones in his stead. She didn't even consult him before she spoke. In fact, it appeared as if the Colonel, leaning against the arm of the chair with his eyes closed, was fast asleep.

"That's First Lieutenant Hawkeye," Kain whispered to Havoc. "She keeps the Colonel in line."

Havoc quickly turned his laughter into an awkward cough, and Lieutenant Hawkeye turned to them with a sharp frown. Kain straightened his back, disentangling himself from Havoc with a cute blush and a perfect salute. Havoc's was a bit lazier, but he'd never given a good salute unless it was to prove a point.

"Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc," Hawkeye said. "They warned us you'd be irreverent to the point of insubordination. And a troublemaker."

"Not without just cause, ma'am," Havoc said. Kain kicked his leg, not very gently or with a great amount of subtlety. A smile might have flickered briefly at the corner of Hawkeye's lips, but Havoc wasn't sure.

"Do not allow yourself to find _'just cause'_ on this ship, Lieutenant," Hawkeye said flatly. "I won't tolerate interruptions in the way this crew runs, and you will find the punishments to be severe."

Havoc bit his tongue on the question of how much _Mustang_ would tolerate, and settled for an even intonation of "Yes, ma'am" that wouldn't get him into any trouble on his first day. Hawkeye eyed him somewhat suspiciously, but let the response go with a sharp nod.

Havoc assumed that was pretty much going to be everything she wanted from him, but then she gestured to one of the co-pilots. The woman instantly leapt from her seat, snapping off a textbook salute.

"Second Lieutenant Panzer will be leaving us for another command when we reach the next planet," Hawkeye said. "Second Lieutenant Havoc, you are one of a few soldiers in the entire force that holds a similar set of abilities as hers, and as such you will be in training as her replacement, effective immediately. I expect you to be capable of piloting this ship in an emergency by the time she leaves, or you will be transferred to another station as well. Is that understood?"

Havoc pulled his brain together with a huge effort as the Lieutenant finished her speech, but still had to clear his throat before he could squeak out another "Yes, ma'am." Panzer spared him a sympathetic smile as Hawkeye waved her back to her seat.

"You may have the rest of the day to settle into your new bunk," Hawkeye continued relentlessly. "Communications Officer Fuery can show you where it is before he _gets back to work_."

She gave Kain a stern look, but there was a fondness underlying it. Kain's smile was bright as he saluted his acknowledgment and turned to leave.

Havoc numbly followed suit, his head spinning. Being part of the flight team wasn't really a surprise, but it was unheard of for somebody new to a command to be given the position of the _first_ co-pilot. Mustang didn't know a damn thing about Havoc; as far as he knew, Havoc could choke in an emergency and send them all to their fiery deaths.

"Is he _insane_?" Havoc asked after they'd walked in silence for a few minutes. "I've never flown alone, and I've only emergency landed twice! And those were single-pilot jets!"

Kain wrapped both of his arms around Havoc's free one and tangled their fingers together, leaning into him to provide comfort.

"Gran never said anything bad about your flying, which is apparently high praise coming from him," he said. "And the Colonel's read all of the field reports on you, of course, which never say anything bad about your _work_ , just your attitude. And I think it helps, a bit, that he does at least know me."

"What does knowing you have to do with my flying?" Havoc asked blankly.

"You're my soulmate," Kain explained softly, his ears drooping a little in uncertainty as he looked up at Havoc. "I mean, I don't get to interact with the Colonel himself much, but almost nobody does. Mostly we talk to Hawkeye. She seems to like me well enough, and they definitely like the work I put out—they're not stingy on compliments, like some commanders can be. And I do my best work under pressure."

"So, what, they're banking on the whole 'birds of a feather' concept?" Havoc asked. "Kinda risky, isn't it?"

"I think risky might be what he wants," Kain said quietly.

"What?" Havoc asked sharply, pulling him to a stop. "What do you mean?"

Kain gnawed on his lip, looking around the corridor nervously before he dragged Havoc over to a shadowy corner. Havoc leaned in close to him, understanding the need for privacy but mostly just wanting to provide whatever clumsy comfort he could.

"You don't _really_ think an alpha's content to be shoved in a corner and forgotten, do you? With a tiny little command like us?" Kain whispered, his voice so soft even Havoc could barely hear him. "I don't know what he's planning, but—"

Someone cleared their voice behind Havoc, and he spun around while pulling Kain to him protectively. A gargoyle was standing a few feet down the hall, wings hanging casually behind him. He scratched idly at his nose with one sharp talon.

"Couldn't even make it to your bunks?" he asked with a sharp grin and a wink aimed at Kain. "I expected better outta you, Officer Fuery."

Kain flushed a shade of red Havoc hadn't ever seen before.

"We were just _talking_ , Breda!" he yelped. "I wouldn't do—in the middle of a corridor!"

He really was just adorable.

"Maybe we should keep moving before we _do_ get carried away with our talkin'," Havoc suggested innocently. The gargoyle cackled.

"Don't encourage him, Jean!" Kain snapped, slapping him lightly on the chest. Havoc gave him his best grin, and before he could get yelled at any more, he tilted his soulmate's face up to kiss him. Kain released one little huff of annoyance before he wrapped his arms around Havoc's neck and returned the kiss.

"Sickening," Breda said, his voice doing nothing to dissuade them from their kiss. "The last thing this boat needed was a disgustingly cute couple, you know that?"

Havoc let go of Kain just enough to give him the finger. Breda just laughed and walked away, whistling something strangely cheerless.

He suspected the gargoyle had interrupted them because he'd known what Kain was whispering about, though whether it was to keep Havoc from learning about it or to warn him to be more careful where he spoke, he wasn't sure. Either way, he resolved not to worry himself too much about what Mustang was planning until it happened. He couldn't affect whatever was going on and even if he could... Well. He had one hell of a reason to make it out to the other end now.


End file.
